Selfie by the pond (I would have asked the forest elves but they were busy!)
So last week I went off into the woods for a self-styled writing retreat, where I had a lovely, private facility all to myself. Some might say, “weren’t you lonely, or afraid, bored, or distracted by the maddening silence?” I would say, none of the above. I was very aware of being alone, but never lonely; I was surprised momentarily by animal or other sounds unfamiliar to me, but confident my immediate surroundings were safe; I had slack moments, but never once felt bored; and the sounds of silence enabled a floodgate of work on my WIP.
Last week I mentioned that every writing retreat has takeaways. For me, the biggest realization was how hard it is to write this second book. I think Crazy was easier because it is semi-autobiographical and flowed from a well deep inside me. I am having to work harder on the WIP (not directly based on personal experience) which is not a bad thing, just a new-and-different thing. So as part of my frequent breaks, I compiled a little photo-journal. At least, I told myself, if I come down with a bad case of writer’s block, I will have something to show for it.
Every day you can count on a sunrise and a sunset, even if you can’t count a single word you wrote.
Sometimes the sunshine doesn’t produce as much
Writing can be as complex as a labyrinth,
as meandering as a stream,
as gnarly as tree knots,
or just downright messy.
It can be enough to drive you into a hole,
cause you to talk to trees,
or seek shelter in unlikely places.
Savor the new life that springs out of dead leaves.